Life SCIENCE
by The Thinking Woman
Summary: Chapter 1: Redefine - Tony is sick of people expecting him to act like an idiot. A mixed series of oneshots, inspired by Incubus! Not songfics - I just used a line or so from each song as a prompt. There will be angst, humour and fluff - not all at once!


**Life S.C.I.E.N.C.E.**

**A/N: Mm, so I got the idea for this one day when I was listening to the Incubus album "S.C.I.E.N.C.E.". If you haven't heard it, I strongly recommend you get a copy… it's quite an eclectic mix of rock, heavy metal, and even a bit of hip-hop and jazz for good measure! Definitely Tony's sort of music!**

**Each story will be a oneshot: one for every track on the album (12 in total). However, they're not strictly speaking songfics, as for the most part, I've just chosen a line or two from each to use as a prompt. They're also not related to each other. You certainly don't need to know or like the songs to read the stories.**

**Disclaimer: The usual... I don't own the characters or the franchise, or even the background story; I'm just playing. So there we have it. Please don't sue me! Oh yeah, I don't own the rights to the album or the song titles or lyrics either, but if it gets more people to listen to Incubus, then it's a public service, hey?**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Redefine<strong>

"_I'm sick of painting in black and white; my pen is dry and I'm all uptight. So sick of limiting myself to fit your definition."_

Everyone has their own expectations of Tony Stark. The majority of these are not very high. Some of them are…well, positively sub-zero.

It wasn't always like this. Take his father, for example. Howard Stark's initial expectations of his only son were _very_ high. Too high, in retrospect. Rather than encourage the boy in his endeavours to be _just like daddy_, Stark Senior focused only on the negatives: this component was not strong enough, that soldering was too rushed, this circuitry was needlessly complex. He maintained that he was merely pushing Anthony to achieve his potential, but he failed to realise that all he was encouraging was the nagging feeling in the child that he just _wasn't quite good enough_.

The entirety of Tony's childhood passed in this manner: always trying hard, yet consistently failing to impress his father nonetheless. At least when he was packed off to boarding school, he had a few weeks' respite between his dad's lectures. _Every cloud… _thought Tony.

Tony finally gave up trying to impress his father at all following the severe dressing-down he got for achieving a lower than expected mark for an assignment in his penultimate year of school. He'd still passed with the third highest mark in his year, but that hadn't been good enough for Howard. He _knew_ that Anthony could have done better, if only he'd _tried_ a bit harder. Rather than listening to his fourteen year-old son's harrowing account of the bullying that was making his life a living hell, and thus - understandably, one might say - affecting his work, the elder Stark merely told the boy that he would, in all likelihood, amount to nothing. The older man's words were purposely cutting, his tone deliberately hurtful. He was disappointed in Tony, he said. Tony was a _disappointment_. The words rung in his ears. It didn't seem to matter how hard he tried, he would never, _ever_ live up to his father's expectations. Now it seemed his father had given up on him. So Tony stopped trying altogether. As it happened, it didn't actually matter in the end; he still graduated top of his class at MIT. It seemed "it'll do" was plenty good enough for everyone else…

And so was set the pattern that would continue for the next twenty-or-so years. The world at large had recognised his engineering genius, but the company's board of directors seemed to have few expectations of their young CEO as a leader. With Obadiah Stane around to keep things running smoothly, Tony never felt the need to become more involved in the company that bore his name. Stane himself had explained to Tony, on the eve of the latter's twenty-first birthday, that running a company like Stark Industries was a job for someone a little more _responsible_, a little more_ mature_ than Tony, and offered to keep a firm hand on the reins even after he handed them over. Tony, who was still trying to deal with the untimely deaths of his parents less than a year earlier, gratefully accepted the offer. It would be another seventeen and-a-bit years before he realised quite how grave a mistake _that_ had been.

Time passed by, and Tony finally hired a Personal Assistant who could stand to be around him for more than five minutes. Virginia "Pepper" Potts was smart and efficient, and very quickly learnt how to handle her employer. She also had fantastic legs and excelled at math. The Board and Mr Stane breathed a collective sigh of relief when Ms Potts didn't leave at the end of her three-month trial period. For the first time in almost a decade, the paperwork was being signed on time, projects were running smoothly and Tony's outrageous antics were - mostly - well covered up with some very clever PR.

Tony was relieved too: he didn't need to remember anything anymore, because he knew the hyper-efficient Ms Potts would chase him up until he did anything and everything she thought he ought to. She was also pretty good at going to his meetings when he couldn't be bothered. The best bit was that she was such a convincing liar on his behalf, that he didn't even need to make up his own excuses; he knew she'd think of something to tell them. All of this left him free to do the three things he was best at in life: drinking, having sex, and inventing things that blow up.

Pepper has been working for him for almost ten years now, and she still does pretty much everything. Tony thinks she could probably run the company by herself if he ever needed her to. She pretty much _did_ whilst he was held captive in Afghanistan. The board members still love her: she still gets things done. Pepper took a holiday once, a few years back, and Tony went AWOL for a week. Since then, nobody has expected anything at all of him when Pepper isn't around. Fortunately, these days, Pepper always _is_ around. She doesn't take holidays anymore. Tony makes a point of being late to the very few meetings he can be bothered to attend, because if he ever turned up on time, Pepper would tease him about it forever. He flirts with the female staff, and even the board members because, hey, he's Tony Stark, and that's what Tony Stark does. Pepper barely seems to notice any more; she's so used to it now.

If Tony really thinks about it, Pepper's expectations of him don't seem to be particularly high either. Tony isn't quite sure what Obadiah told her, but she seems be under the impression that Tony is completely incapable of tying his own shoelaces without her around. She _knows_ that he can't behave himself in public; she _knows_ that he is a womaniser and a show-off. Just as she knows that he simply _has _to drink too much. So when they go out to yet another deathly boring benefit, he _does_ get horribly drunk and offend half the guests, because that's exactly what she _expects_ him to do. It's what everyone expects. And he flirts outrageously with every bimbo who will listen to him (which doesn't rule out many), because, well… that's what he _does_. Before Afghanistan, he would have taken them home to bed, too, because it was expected of him. He would have left them in his bed for Pepper to get rid of in the morning for the very same reason.

When Pepper works late at the Stark mansion, Tony always orders takeout. He would actually quite like to try cooking for her, but he's afraid that it will be a disaster. He thinks it will be a disaster because Pepper tells him that he's no good at cooking. She knows this from experience, she says. He's only cooked for her once. It _was_ a disaster. He'd try again, but she doesn't seem to think he should bother.

When Tony is worried or angry or upset about something, he starts drinking. Pepper always knows when he's feeling down, because he bypasses the beer and goes straight for the scotch. It's become a strange sort of ritual: his way of letting her know that he needs to talk, so that she will ask him what's wrong. Of course it's not the only reason he drinks, but it's the reason he drinks in front of her. Though she tells him differently, deep down, he knows that Pepper doesn't think he's strong enough to handle the serious stuff without alcohol. Maybe he isn't; he doesn't really know anymore. He's not entirely sure he cares.

Just recently though, Tony has started to feel a little limited by the way people define him. It's got to the point where nobody will take him seriously, especially since he closed down the weapons division. Even though he's _very _serious now, particularly about destroying his weapons and the whole Iron Man thing. He realises now that it was a little ill-thought-out, but that's kind of why he gave the game away at the press conference. As for the effect it would have on his already-overworked PA, with the hugely increased workload it would entail? Who cares? Tony Stark doesn't bother about stuff like that. Well, maybe on a normal day he does; he doesn't deliberately set out to make Pepper's life difficult - not usually, anyway - but that particular day he was angry with Pepper. Maybe she hadn't meant to, but she'd hurt him. He had - in a very roundabout way - tried to explain his feelings for her, and she'd shot him down. Apparently, she wouldn't go out with him because he left her by herself on that stupid balcony… or something like that. He didn't get a chance to explain that, _actually_, he was off halfway around the world saving lives, but he doubted she would have listened anyway. She believed him to be a selfish, egotistical idiot who was incapable of having an adult relationship, or even behaving like a grown-up at all. She expected him to be childish, so he was: he did the exact opposite of what he was told to do, and broadcast to the entire world that he was, in fact, Iron Man. She still hasn't forgiven him, and that was over a fortnight ago.

He had expected that she would be angry, yell at him, and then give him the silent treatment, but strangely, she hasn't. Instead, she has adopted the "martyr" approach, and battles through the day, fending off reporters and government agents, as if she never expected that her idiot boss would be capable of the simple action of reading a speech from a set of cards in the first place. No, this is worse than yelling _or_ silence. This is _far_ worse. He feels like a bumbling, incompetent idiot.

Tony has had enough of having no expectations to meet, so he decides to raise the bar for himself. Over the next few weeks, he starts to turn up to his meetings on time. He leaves his paperwork in a neat pile on Pepper's desk, in date order. He hasn't slept with anyone since before he was kidnapped, and he knows that Pepper is aware of this. When they go to their first dinner dance since that now infamous press conference, he is very polite and amiable, but he doesn't flirt with _anyone_. Except Pepper maybe - just a little. It doesn't get him anywhere. He doesn't get drunk either. Well, not _that _drunk, anyway. The following day, as a gesture of appreciation for her public support of him (which can't have been fun - she was fighting off reporters and photographers all night), he sends Pepper flowers.

Pepper doesn't say a word. She puts the flowers in a vase on her desk, but doesn't remark on his change of attitude and behaviour. He wonders if she has even noticed. He thinks that maybe she has, because she has softened just a little towards him now, but he can't be sure. She always forgives him in the end anyway, so it's hard to tell.

Not to be deterred, Tony decides to up his game. He buys a recipe book and cooks for her the next time she works late at his house. She regards him suspiciously, but eats his creation, which is really quite good for a first attempt, tells him it was nice, and carries on with her work as if nothing unusual has happened. If she is surprised that he has made the effort to cook for her, she doesn't comment on it. He wonders what exactly he has to do to get her attention, to prove to her that he has changed.

Later that evening, Tony is called out on a mission. He comes back several hours later in a state of physical and emotional shock, having got there moments too late to prevent a fatal shootout. This time though, he doesn't hit the bottle. Instead, he takes his time having a shower, cleans himself up and goes to Pepper, who had fallen asleep on the couch but is now awake. He doesn't say anything; he just needs to be near her. He stumbles over his own feet and is shaking as he sinks into the far end of the couch. He feels drunk, although he hasn't touched a drop. He knows it's really just the exhaustion, but he thinks he must probably _look_ drunk, judging by the expression on her face. Still, she says nothing; just shakes her head slowly, a sad and worried look in her eyes.

That is when Tony loses it.

He can't take any more of her disapproval. He knows that nobody else can believe he's trying to take responsibility and put things right, but he'd really hoped that she, of all people, would realise that he's trying his best here. He is sick of limiting himself to fit others' expectations of him. The board expect him to be an immature, irresponsible idiot, so for seventeen years, that's what he's given them. Well. Not. Any. More. Tony Stark is _angry_. He wants to know why, after all they've been through, she doesn't believe he can be a better person. He wants to know why she thinks that every time he does something nice, he must have an ulterior motive. He's not even sure she's _noticed_ that he's changed, because, honestly, she doesn't really seem to see him as a _person_ - just her irritating boss; a cross to be borne. He tells her all of this. Loudly. At least he thinks he does: he can't be quite sure, because in amongst the shouting and waving of arms, it's entirely possible that some of the message got lost in translation. Tony has never been very good at expressing himself when it actually matters - he stumbles over his speech and his sentences are disjointed. His depth of feeling somehow just won't go into words.

When he has finished ranting at her, and she is sitting, open-mouthed, staring at him from the sofa, he goes to stand at the window with his back to her, looking out to sea. It is cold and dark and uninviting at this hour, and it occurs to Tony that it is probably a very good metaphor for the way he is feeling right now.

However, it seems that Pepper is not afraid of the dark, nor of the cold, as she comes to stand behind him, a little to one side. She tells him that she _does_ know he has it in him to be a better person - that in all the years she's worked for him, she has _always_ known. But there was never any use in telling him; she just had to wait for him to figure it out for himself. She _has_ noticed the changes he's been making; but she didn't want to draw attention to them because then he might decide to stop, and she likes the new Tony. She doesn't _need _to redefine him, because he is still the man she always knew him to be.

She moves closer and lightly tugs his arm, turning him towards her. Even in the moonlight, she can see that he looks pale and drawn, and his soulful, dark eyes are desperately sad. Cupping his face with her hand, she places a gentle kiss on his cheek. She might not be able to be his girlfriend right now, she tells him, but she _is _sick with worry. And she is so very, very proud of the man he has become.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed reading. This is the first time I've tried writing in this tense, and I'm not sure whether it's worked or not! Opinions please? All reviews would be very welcome - good or bad - as long as it's constructive, so I know where I'm going wrong!<strong>


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